


lust in the west

by Katherinehgt



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherinehgt/pseuds/Katherinehgt
Summary: "Oh come on, Beckett. It could be worse." Only - it does get worse before it gets better. Set in Once Upon a Time in The West PRE-COUPLE. S4.





	lust in the west

"Castle, there's no way I'm sleeping on that bed."

He winces, eyes taking in the tiny twin bed covered by a thick layer of dust, spider webs weaved around the wrought iron of the headboard. She's right, the bunkhouse is pretty terrible in its striking _authenticity_ \- and there's absolutely no way they'll fit. He studies their options for her sake (and his) but really, they're rather...slim.

"Okay, floor then?" he suggests, only Beckett huffs at him and rolls her eyes in exasperation, bracing her hands on her hips - and yeah, probably not.

"Have you seen the floor?" She arches an eyebrow up at him - clearly calling him on his bullshit. He gets it - she's stuck here with him, but is it really that bad? She's been tense ever since they got here, flinches every time he has to hold her hand _for show_ and remind her, _We're supposed to be newlyweds, Beckett, you need to relax._

He doesn't quite remember the last time she was so high-strung, and yet they've been in those kinds of situations before. Their partnership survived being handcuffed to each other surrounded by tigers, surely, a twin bed isn't that bad in comparison.

Or is it?

He narrows his eyes, examining the worn wooden floor topped by a good inch of dust and few twigs of hay - and god knows what else. "Actually - no...I can't."

She throws her arms up with a groan, shoots him one of her dark glares - and this is his cue to shut his mouth if he doesn't want her to _shoot_ him. "Ugh, this is all your fault, you know," she grumbles pointing a finger at his chest as she starts to unpack.

Okay, yes, he suggested coming here undercover - but what other plan did they have? Plus, the resort is actually nice. They've gone through worse than that and she's totally blowing this out of proportion.

"Oh come on, Beckett. It could be worse."

* * *

It does get worse in a way he's not quite anticipated and thinking back on her odd behavior - he almost wonders if she did - except that, no, she can't possibly have.

The only way they can fit on the bed and lay comfortably enough to get some sleep is to have her lay on his chest. Obviously, she's not very impressed at first, _Hell no, Castle, I'm not gonna cuddle you just because you're as big as a fucking mountain_ , and while he almost laughs at _that_ , he settles for showing her that nothing else will work instead, since neither of them is willing to sleep on the floor.

Eventually and very much awkwardly, she relents with a _Fine, Castle, but lay off_ and rests her head on his chest, drapes half of her frame over his side. It's actually nice once she stops grumbling under her breath, and having her warm and supple in his arms has him wondering whether they'll ever get there - one day, he hopes.

When he'll find a real breach through her wall.

Again, it's not the first time they end up in this position, though this time, it's a conscious - albeit not universally appreciated - choice.

She goes slack against him rather fast and though he may be in love, he feels pretty objective when he thinks that it's the most beautiful sight he's seen in a long time. He would be crazy not to let his eyes memorize it for him. She has a hand curled into a fist by her face, her hair in a loose ponytail at her nape that tickles his forearm. Her black lashes are thick and mesmerizing against her contrasting fair skin (he's got to remember to tell her to put on some sunblock), the slope of her nose so smooth that he longs to trail a finger down. He feels her breath wash over his bare chest where her mouth is open, feels it warm him up, and all too quickly the image and feel of her is enough to lull him to sleep.

The first time he wakes up, the room is still plunged into a disorienting darkness, the moon shining bright and casting a gentle single ray of light across the wall.

Still pretty late, then.

His mind is groggy, his eyelids still heavy with sleep and yet one particular part of him seems well awake. _This_ is what woke him up. It's not exactly surprising since he's no stranger to waking up from a dream all hot and bothered because of a certain detective - who's right _here_. However, he can't remember dreaming at all and that's more curious. He squirms uncomfortably for a second, tries not to pay attention to the strong stirring in his groin and that's when he realizes she has a leg draped over his waist, her center high enough that the head of his cock almost is _bumping_ it.

No wonder it's up and about.

Swallowing hard around his dry throat, his hand fists the sheet when the muscles of his stomach clench, pulse racing so fast that he feels it make his hard-on throb in time.

Oh, that's bad, so bad.

She was right - bad idea.

He takes slow, controlled breaths trying to picture puppies and butterflies - anything that would make the dull but flaring ache disappear. Her hot mouth washing hot air against his painfully aware skin and her little snores make that impossible, only have his length twitching now that he's fully aware of her. She's everywhere - fills his every sense; her sweet smell of sleep-induced sweat and cherry blossoms has his blood simmering like molten lava, setting his whole body on fire. There's no way out of this - unless he finds a way to slip her off him so he can take care of himself in the bathroom - _oh hell no._

He groans into his pillow remembering that cowboy dude sharing the bathroom with them, and there's no fucking way...

Perhaps if he ignores her and tries hard enough to fall back asleep, it will just go away.

The moment he closes his eyes, though, he feels her leg creep higher - mounting him like a _tree_ and the long moan that tumbles past her lips is like an electric shock right to his core.

He _knows_ what this moan is, this isn't just _any_ moan.

Surely, Beckett isn't-...

His thoughts burst into flames the moment she rubs herself against him - or rather _humps_ him - and that's it, he's damned and any chance of falling back asleep is reduced to shreds.

She _has to_ be-...

His second brain caught on to that as fast as the first did, and the little blood he's still got left up there quickly comes racing down. Kate Beckett having a dirty dream whilst cuddling his chest and getting herself off against him? There's no way he's - _they're_ \- surviving this.

It should terrify him, yet he's blinded by lust - can't see past the foggy cloud of want.

The tension that's little by little seizing him is like a spreading wildfire - flames licking up his spine and shooting painful needle-like stabs down his length. He's got to do something, but what? Her leg is in the way, a barrier that prevents him from reaching down or if he does, there's no way she won't wake up, and she absolutely can't.

They're not ready for this.

His breathing is ragged already, his chest heaving up and down so unevenly that it's a wonder she doesn't even so much as rouse a little bit. The forbidden and dirty thought only fuels him with a dangerous thrill, that fiercely heightens the pressure and he's fairly sure that a single touch - and he's gone.

Because it's her, only her, who has the mad ability to undo him in her sleep. Everywhere she's concerned, he's powerless - defenseless even.

Her fingers curl inside her palm against him, her mouth hot and open at his collarbones and suddenly, she sags against him and relaxes as if she'd been holding herself stiff before now. His mind is screaming, his erection pulsing hard at what it _means_ , but he's got no time to think about the fact that Kate Beckett most assuredly climaxed, because her leg is slipping down along his own and her center follows - strokes his shaft in a fast and rough move.

And he's there - stars bursting behind his eyelids, abs flexing and cock throbbing as the waves of climax crashes into him until he's got nothing left. He turns his face to bite into the fabric of the cushion as he empties himself inside his boxers like a teenager, grunting at the rancid taste it leaves in his mouth.

Luckily, she doesn't seem to pick on what happened on the morning after - or so he thinks - and he quickly disappears inside the bathroom as soon as she wakes up with only a word about needing to pee.

* * *

She's incredibly moody and even more snappy than usual, and he's all wound up tight from the night before, can't possibly look at her in the eye without his length raising for the bait. There's always been a certain tension going on between them, one he's never had any particular difficulties to avoid or _take in hand_.

Until now.

Now that he has an idea of what she sounds like, of how warm and right her weight on him is.

Fuck waiting.

It doesn't help that she's wandering around wearing these ass-hugging, low-waisted worn jeans, and this cowboy hat that casts a shadow on half of her face and gives her a dark, mysterious aura he barely can resist.

They've spent the day chasing leads and while they're getting somewhere, there's nothing else they can do for the day if they don't want to get caught. His hand is tingling from holding hers all day, sparks flaring down his body and setting his nerves ablaze, and if they don't do something, anything - he'll have to go on another little impromptu trip to the bathroom.

Instead, he suggests they go for a ride with the horses they have here for rent and surprisingly, she agrees without much of a fight. Even better, she grins at him and even bumps her hip into him as she goes.

It turns out to be - again - a terrible idea.

Her pelvis rocks so in tune with the big, dark beast and her hips move so alluringly with the sway of the horse's steps that he's left once again out of breath.

Needless to say, he was not ready for the sight of Kate Beckett riding such a huge beast.

The thing doesn't even flinch or object once, follows her every command as if he's under the spell. And just as obediently, his very _own_ beast surges up - ready to please, too.

It's so wrong, but for heaven's lord, he can't will himself to stop.

They lead the way in turns and he likes staying behind to enjoy the direct views on Beckett's rear, but not only; there's something so very enthralling in the way she handles the beast. Her hands are always so light around the reins, and yet the huge stallion barely moves a muscle. Still, now that he gets to blaze the trail, he's thankful for the widespread of vegetation he can turn his attention to instead for a moment - ease up the pressure in his stupid hard-on.

He lets his horse wander around for a moment, raises his head back up when he tries to snatch a handful of grass from the side. When Castle turns his head round, Beckett is far off behind, barely holding her reins at all, and her horse seems quite upset.

His eyebrows furrow at the expression on her face. "Kate," he shouts bracing himself with a hand flat against his horse's croup,"Everything all right?"

She squirms in her saddle and her mouth opens around something he can't hear from here, but from the look on her face - something is wrong.

Taking his reins back, Castle pulls on them to stop his horse, "Woah."

He waits for her to catch up and it's once that she's at his level, that he can see how her face contorts around a pained moan. "You okay?"

"No, shit-" she hisses, curling an arm behind her as if trying to reach backward. "I think something stung me and it's fucking killing me," she groans.

Oh. Makes sense.

"Can you ride?" he asks, getting his horse to spin so he can face her.

"I don't know, my back hurts as hell."

He nods, trying to think of something. The area is somewhat clear, but a bunch of solid trees surround them; he could easily tie the beasts to one of those while they figure something out.

He deftly lets himself drop to the floor, swings the reins over the horse's head. "Okay, Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"Try to get down, I'll tie those boys to the tree over there and I'll take a look, okay?"

"Okay."

She lifts and flings a careful leg over the horse's rear and gets down slowly, a small moan escaping her. He takes her horse and leads him to the tree a few feet away, fastens the reins around a solid looking branch as best as he can.

"It should do, perhaps brace yourself against the tree behind them and lift your shirt."

He expects her to glare or huff at him, but she does as instructed silently, braces a hand against the tree and lifts her blue sky shirt with another.

His eyes skim the expanse of her back, appreciative of how clear and smooth her skin is. Assuredly, a large bruise marks her lower back - quite like a burn, but darker and swollen.

"Yeah, that's a deer fly bite," he tells her, his fingers dancing around the bruise, "Alexis has had one of those once, that's gonna hurt for a little while."

"Is there anything you can do?" she whines as she looks at him over her shoulder, drawing his lips into an amused smile she doesn't even berated him for. Quite a pain she must be in.

He shrugs, "Here and now? Not much," he says, his hand carefully stroking the inflamed area. "How about this?"

"Oh- uh- ye- yeah," she croaks, facing the tree. "That's good."

It's innocent enough, but still, a faint blush crawls up her neck.

"You need to think about something else," he says as his fingers travel further up, follows the line of her spine with feather-light fingers as he pushes the fabric further up. Her skin is of a seductive gold, the soft strands of brown hair flowing down her back and glowing where the glaring sun hits them - and he's a little mesmerized by how it all come together.

"Easy for you to say," she mumbles.

Blinking back into awareness, he can't help noticing how fast she reacts to his touch; he's been trailing his fingers over her back for a minute or two only and already her body is canting forward, easing into it, and maybe...

"I'll help," he whispers - _husks_ , bringing his mouth to her ear.

The line of her throat flexes hard - at his tone or the wash of air against her sensitive skin, he's not sure.

"Oh- okay," she gulps, with a short nod, though she doesn't look at him and stares straight ahead.

His hand progresses back down to span her sides, thumbs going in circles against her so soft skin. He watches as her ribcage swells with a sharp intake of breath the moment he slowly unfastens each button of her shirt, feels her abs jump under his knuckles as his fingers drift down, letting the fabric falls to their feet. His fingers strum the outline of her ribs, plays her like a perfectly tuned instrument eliciting an evanescent moan in response as the pads of his fingers brush her belly button. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," she answers breathlessly, and he's not quite sure that it's such a good idea anymore. The more he touches, the louder and more laboured her breathing gets and she's - she's all red and he doubts that it's only because of the Arizona sun. She's holding herself incredibly stiff, her arms and thighs almost shaking with it - and he's fairly sure it has nothing to do with the bruise on her back.

His lets his finger creep higher and higher up her ribs, brushing-

"Wha- What's that?"

"A sports bra, Castle," she offers self-evidently, "Much more comfortable to ride in."

Much more _annoying_ , she means?

He huffs, his large palms skimming down her back, softly going over the wound and promptly dragging a small whine out of her. His fingers dip past her jeans and while it's purely accidental, she gives a little gasp and his heart jerks inside his tight chest, his arousal springing back up from where it had started to soften.

"Sorry," he mumbles around a grunt.

"It's-ah- it's okay," she sighs, her forearms flexing before her.

 _It's okay_. Is this his green light to venture lower? Not willing to take the risk, he brushes his hands back up, barely hovers her skin and returns to her flat, toned stomach - lets his fingers reach the hem of her sports bra.

He doesn't know what he's asking, and yet she _does._ "Just do it," she chokes and his eyes widen - breath stuttering. He doesn't need her to explain, can hear through her strained tone what she wants.

His pinky slips under the tight fabric, "You sure?"

"Yes, I am."

He nods, the hard muscles of his stomach coiling hard at _what_ she's asking, and yet fears he's gonna lose his head. Still, his fingers travel past the tight fabric and start to skim over the slick skin under her breasts. She bows forward, seeking more contact, and it's his turn to choke on the harsh, dry air. Her silent plea making him bold, he pushes the fabric up - at least as much as he can, which isn't much - so he can mold a hand around her right mound, knead it softly as her shoulders curl inward.

Fuck, what is he- what are _they_ doing?

His thumb quickly finds her nipple and teases the already tight bud between two fingers. He's so long gone in the feel of her breasts in his hands that he isn't quite aware of his mouth drifting to her neck, of his tongue licking the salty skin there. "Ah- Castle," she moans now bracing herself with her two hands. Her strong scent hits his nose and washes over him so fiercely that it intoxicates his blood, makes his stomach clench in _hunger_ and he can no longer _not_ have more of it. He nips at the soft flesh, soothing his tongue over her tendon as his fingers work her nipples. She gives a short keen, letting her head drop on a side so that he has more land to explore.

And explores he does - like a parched man hit with the sweet sight of a long-awaited oasis.

He tastes, smells and touches until both are left breathless and delirious with it. Yet, she's like a mirage and the more he drinks her in - the more he burns for her. His cock pulses so hard and painfully that he unconsciously rocks into her from behind, the blunt contact drawing a long moan from him when his arousal hit the zipper of his jeans.

There's no way she doesn't feel him, and he momentarily freezes, fears her reaction. They're on a vast dry plain, barely hidden by a thick tree and two bulky horses, his cock is pressed up against her butt, his hands wrapped around her breasts and his mouth devouring-

"Fuck- Castle, do something, and do it _now_ ," she grits through her teeth it seems, the order choking him just as effectively as a strong hand around his neck.

Biting hard into the junction between her shoulder and neck, his hands leave her breasts to fly down to her jeans, pulling them down her knees in one smooth move - watching with drugged, heavy-lidded eyes as her buttcheeks jiggle. She pants hard and fast, her fingers curling into the wood, her nails cutting into the bark as his hands leisurely rub her ass cheeks.

"Sports bra and a thong, Beckett? Quite contradictory," he mutters against her skin.

"Shut your mouth," she attempts to snarl, it seems, but she's so out of breath that it comes out awfully desperate.

He bucks into her once again, his still covered length rocking into her ass and it's all it takes for them both to give out long moans. "Fuck," he groans.

"Fuck's right," she deadpans pushing back into him.

He doesn't know just how far she's willing to go - isn't sure himself, but either way, he's got to know.

"I'm- I'm not gonna last long, Kate," he says, his hand drawing random patterns over her buttcheek. "What do you need?"

"You said you'd help me forget."

It's all she offers, nothing more - nothing less.

Forget what exactly - Her bug bite? Her shooting? The months she spent ignoring him? That they're having _sex_?

He's a fool and would give her anything she'd want anyway.

He groans into her warm skin, worshiping the column of her neck with his lips whilst his arm curls around her stomach so his left hand can reach the front of her thong. He blindly reaches down, fingers pressing down on her through the silky fabric. She moans long and dirty, her forehead hitting the trunk with a thud, hat tipping backward. "Yes, Castle, fuck."

The expletive spurs him on, his mouth nipping up her neck to trap the shell of her ear between his teeth, his head bumping into her cowboy hat. "Are you wet, Kate?"

It's blunt, even for him - but his length aches, his whole being craving for more - and he's got no filter.

She asked for it - now he's unhinged, for the air she feeds him is a ticket straight to hell.

She keens, a small noise that sends tormenting sparks right down his cock, rocking into the palm of his hand as he teases her nub through the slippery thong, strokes her swollen lips. "Shit, yes - you know I am."

Smirking into her hair, he nudges the hat up with his nose, drags his lips to her temple with a reverence that matches the slow motions of his finger over her sex. "Let's check, just in case," he says dipping his hand down under the thong, and unsurprisingly, the fabric is damp- ruined. He groans against her as his fingers slip lower, right in the pool of her want. She's perfect; warm and slick - burning with want. "You're drenched- How-"

"I have been since last night, you fucking moron."

His lungs shut off, heart lurching so hard he almost knocks her flat against the tree. "You- you have?"

"Fuck, yes- told you it's all your fault."

He growls hard, his chest rumbling with it as his finger plunges unceremoniously inside her in one thrust. She gasps, her mouth wide as he draws her moan out, finger pumping hard enough that his palm bumps her bundle of nerves. He's got very little leverage, but nothing can quite compare with the wet, hot walls of her sex that clench down around him and squirt the delicious proof of her want for _him_ down his wrist. "I'll take the full blame," he grunts against her cheek, pushing a second finger in so he can thrust harder. She gives a little cry, her hips thrashing uncoordinatedly and entirely too filthy as his free hand comes around to cover her mouth, his lips hovering the shell of her ear with a sluggish _Shhhhh._

Her firm thighs flex and trap his hand so hard that he's fairly sure it's going numb, but the sound alone of her squelching center is enough to keep him going until the pressure in his groin is too unbearable.

She's so hot, he might catch fire.

Dropping his hand from her mouth, he pulls out his fingers earning him a groan of protest. "No- Castle, please-"

"I'm right here, I'm not letting you down," he blows against the corner of her lips, trailing his fingers coated in _her_ along her abs. He pulls his jeans down along with his boxers in one swift move, his length springing up and bouncing against her backside. He moans a dark noise as he watches a sharp line of goosebumps rise along her stiff arms. "Still okay?"

"God, Castle, yes. Told you that already," she groans, bucking back into him impatiently - urging him on.

He shamelessly laughs at her into her shoulder, nestles his cock in between her ass cheeks. Kate Beckett practically begging for it? He wouldn't have figured. "I mean, I don't have any protection, Kate."

"I'm clean, and I trust you- so go-"

He pushes the flimsy fabric aside and thrusts home before she can finish, the last of the sentence broken and interrupted by a harsh shout. He bites hard into her shoulder and drapes his left hand back over her mouth, pushing in and out slow, but hard. The hand not muffling her cries comes around to her breasts, and he swears at the tight fabric clearly in the way. "Fuck you, Beckett- this sucks..."

He groans when she bites hard into the skin of his palm, makes him drop his hand. "And you _bite_."

She knocks her head into his with a sly smile as she pants through hard, battered breaths. "Wasn't really part of the plan."

He pulls out slowly, palming her hip with a hand, as he teases the head of his cock through her dripping folds. "I don't know, Beckett, seems to me like we both know what happened last night," he says as she shifts her feet farther apart - as far as her jeans allow her. He trails a slow finger up and down her side, watches as her frame shivers.

"Stop fucking around," she growls.

The hand holding himself freezes just where it was about to push home, and he angles his head to look at her. "You sure about that?"

"Look, we're on a fucking touristic resort ground- so you may want to hurry up before someone catches us" she groans, and just as fast, he pushes back inside as far as he can.

"You're right," he lets out building a steady rhythm, his hands gripping her hips so hard he'll probably leave marks.

He doesn't need much, can already feel the familiar stir of release that burns and will soon consume him. He can tell by her muffled grunts, that she's trying to hold herself back, and that won't do - at all. Thrusting vigorously, his left hand travels up to pull hard on her hair while the right one drifts down to her front, pushing the drenched fabric covering her swollen lips aside so he can tease her nub in and out of its hood in time with his thrusts. Her whole frame rattles with the momentum of his drive, the visceral cry breaking past her lips splitting him apart like a strike of lightning. One of her hands drops from the trunk, and curls backward to grip his ass, almost collapsing flat against it when he pulls harder on her hair, tips her head backward so he can feast on her neck again. His breaths are short and he's almost to the point of no return, but he can tell she's right _here_.

The harsh slap of their sweat-slick skin echoes around them, the wet noise of him driving in and out of her so loud and so dangerous that his fingers stroke her nub in a blur just as his thrusts shorten.

She shouts his name, her knees giving out and he's only got enough time to curl an arm around her waist to hold her up before the hot surge of his release splashes against her walls and drips down her thighs as he rocks messily into her, drawing it out with hard pants against her bowed spine.

It's only when he comes back to himself that he realizes he didn't get to taste her lips even once, and it's like a harsh pang that stabs his chest and instantly cools off his boiling blood.

They put their clothes back on in silence, and he wishes she would look at him but-

"Castle," she asks, her chest still heaving hard, hair dishevelled and her eyes wild. "Didn't you say you'd tied both horses to this tree?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Because one is missing," she hisses.

Oh, fuck.

Luckily, he gave her enough endorphins that she can ride with him back to the resort - and naturally, she lets _him_ explain how they lost a _horse_.

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this will probably have a second chapter! Though, I can't say when.


End file.
